6. A Leash, Not a Cage

I hated myself. I was pathetic. Because I was waiting for him. Why was I? It was so desperate. I shouldn't be excited. I didn't trust him.

My eyes flicked to the hallway whenever I heard voices passing by. That I, of all people, was wondering when the Duke with kind eyes and suspicious patience would return.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was supposed to keep my guard up, teeth bared, heart locked behind seven iron doors.

But after two meetings… I was always listening for the sound of boots that didn’t drag or stomp. His stride was always even, always calm. I hated how well I’d memorized it.

I stayed in my room most days, half-buried in books I’d read too many times. I’d lie on my stomach across the bed, flipping pages with no focus, my fingers lingering on underlined sentences from a different version of me.

The days bled together like ink in water.

And, like usual, I didn’t eat.

Not really.

They brought food to my door, and I just… stared at it. I had this thing, this awful thing, where if I ignored the hunger long enough, it’d turn into numbness. And numb was easier than feeling anything.

But by nightfall, my stomach ached so sharp it curled me up in bed.

I stared at the untouched tray across the room. Still full. Cold now.

The ache twisted deeper.

So, against everything in me, I finally got up.

I pulled on a robe over my nightgown, grabbed the lantern from the hook, and quietly pushed open my door.

The halls were cold and empty, just as I liked them. Shadows stretched long across the marble, and the flame from my lantern flickered as I moved through the corridors, barefoot, cautious.

The kitchens weren’t far. I just needed a piece of bread. Anything.

But right as I turned the corner near the stairwell, I froze. Oh no, why was he here?

Rylan.

He was moving through the corridor, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He was patrolling like usual. He had insomnia that's why at night he patrolled in the palace.

His eyes landed on me instantly.

I didn’t wait. I don't want to talk to him.

I turned back around, heart thudding, trying to retreat before he opened his mouth—

"Cessalie."

Damn it.

I stopped mid-step, back still to him. Fingers tightening around the handle of the lantern.

"Turn around."

I did, slowly, keeping my expression as blank as I could. If I show fear he will be satisfied. I refused to make him satisfied.

He didn’t move closer He just stared.

"What are you doing out of your room?"

I swallowed. "I was hungry."

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe me, or maybe like he didn’t care.

"You haven’t been eating again."

He knew. It was shocking he noticed. Nobody ever noticed my eating problems except the maids and I had warned them to not tell anyone about it.

I lifted my chin. "And?"

His eyes narrowed. "You’re not doing yourself any favors by acting like this."

"I wasn’t aware eating was a favor," I muttered.

He took a slow step forward. "Father said you’re behaving. Don’t ruin it now."

I hated how that still made fear creep up my spine. I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. I was just hungry.

But being born a Draevin meant existing was enough to be accused.

So I stood there, heart pounding, pretending not to care while every part of me screamed to run.

Rylan stepped closer, eyes never leaving mine. "Come. I’ll take you."

I didn’t move. My grip tightened around the lantern. Why was he even willing to help?

"I said I’ll manage," I muttered, colder than I felt.

His jaw flexed like he was getting tired of my voice, but he didn’t argue. Didn’t threaten. Just stood there, tall and composed like he always was, like nothing I ever said or did could touch him.

"Suit yourself," he said finally, turning his back like he didn’t care.

But then he paused.

"You’re not invisible, Cessalie," he added, voice quieter. "People notice when you disappear into your room and don’t come out for days."

I didn’t say anything. Why did he say that?

He waited a beat, then started walking again, down the same path I was headed.

He didn’t glance back, but he didn’t leave me behind either.

After a second, I followed.

Not because I wanted to. Not because I trusted him.

But because the hunger was burning now, and if he was going to walk ahead like a silent shadow, I’d rather trail behind than go alone.

It wasn’t some brotherly kindness. Rylan didn’t believe in kindness.

It was probably his guilt, shaped like duty. He’d watched father hurt me. Never stopped it. Never started it either. Just stood there.

Like now.

We reached the kitchen in silence. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at me. Just leaned against the wall while I walked inside like I was still a prisoner in my own home.

I opened the cupboard slowly, my hands trembling more from the fear than cold, grabbed a slice of bread and a little bowl of olives, and sat down at the edge of the counter, chewing quietly.

Rylan stayed in the darkness, arms crossed.

Like a guard dog with too much pride to admit it cares.

"You should take the chance," Rylan said suddenly. Voice low, almost bored. Like he was commenting on the weather, not my life.

I paused mid-bite, blinking at him through the low flicker of lantern light. "What?"

He didn’t repeat himself. Just kept staring ahead at nothing, arms crossed like he’d rather be anywhere else but still had something to say.

I swallowed the bite of bread, throat dry now. "What chance?"

"The marriage." He tilted his head slightly, not looking at me. "Davian’s… different. He won’t punish you for being yourself. He admires you."

That caught me off guard. For a second, I just stared at him.

Was he really saying this? After years of silence? After watching me get punished for things I didn’t even do? After never once stepping in?

"You think I should just run off into marriage because he’s not the kind to whip me?" I asked bitterly.

Rylan didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch. "I’m saying....this might be your only way out."

I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. "So now you care?"

His jaw tightened at that. But he didn’t look at me. He didn’t raise his voice. Just kept leaning there like I wasn’t even worth facing.

"I don’t care," he said flatly. "But I know father. And I know you. You won’t survive this house much longer. So if Davian’s giving you a leash instead of a cage, maybe take it."

I felt like the floor had shifted under me.

Not because he said it kindly. He didn’t. Not even close. But because it was probably the first time Rylan ever admitted something wasn’t fair.

I stared at him. "Why now?"

He still didn’t look. "I said what I had to."

And with that, he pushed off the wall and left. No goodbye. No lingering glance. Just... walked away into the dark hall.

Leaving me sitting there, holding a half-eaten piece of bread, wondering what the hell just happened.

I sat there for a long time after he left. Lantern flickering beside me, bread going cold in my hand.

That conversation shouldn’t have meant anything. Rylan wasn’t comforting me. He wasn’t apologizing or making amends. He didn’t even say it like he gave a damn whether I lived or died.

But still.

He said it.

That was more than I ever thought I’d get from him.

I got up slowly, suddenly too tired to be standing there in the corridor. My body ached, partly from hunger, partly from everything else I’d buried under calm expressions and blank stares.

The walk back to my room was quiet. Cold. The corridor felt longer somehow.

And all I could think about was his words. "If Davian’s giving you a leash instead of a cage, maybe take it."

Leash. Cage. Both were still restraints, but maybe one had longer rope.

I closed the door behind me, set the lantern down, and leaned against it for a second. Just breathing.

Why the hell did Rylan even say all that?

He didn’t sound regretful. He wasn’t warning me like a brother. He sounded… tired. Or maybe sick of watching. Or maybe he was just done pretending I had a choice.

I crawled back into bed, blanket cold against my skin.

Stared at the ceiling.

I didn’t want to want Davian to come back. But some twisted part of me… kind of did. Maybe because he was the first man who didn’t look at me like a burden.

Or maybe because he hadn’t laid hands on me. Yet.

I hated myself a little for that hope. But it was there anyway.

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